


After the Dust Settles

by elldotsee



Series: SpaceBois go to Space [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Beloved Spacebois, Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, FLUFF IN A GREENHOUSE, Fandom Trumps Hate, M/M, Mars Exploration, Mars Settlement, Science Fiction, Sherlock AU, So Married, Space hotties, Spacelock, alternate universe - astronauts, we like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elldotsee/pseuds/elldotsee
Summary: Phase One of the Mars project is well underway as the colony approaches its one year anniversary. John, Will and the rest of the crew are confident that when the first group of settlers arrive, everything will be ready for them. But disaster strikes in the form of a dust storm and their confidence quickly evaporates as they battle first the effects of the storm, then their own frustrations and self-confidence. Will the new year bring more frustration and failure, or will they win out over the tenacious red planet?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: SpaceBois go to Space [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1005582
Comments: 37
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spenglernot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spenglernot/gifts).



> Skidding in at the last second with my contribution for the Fandom Trumps Hate auction, as is my custom. 🙄 
> 
> Thank you to my gracious and generous bidder, spenglernot, who enthusiastically encouraged me to revisit my favourite Martian lovers. <3 
> 
> Many thanks are also due to J.Baillier for beta help and for making [ this gorgeous cover art. ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/12c71e478ed2ce8a599812025d940027/8729c4558260ee3e-e2/s1280x1920/bea702d80e6722e4523d8f760fd9552ef6ca456c.jpg)
> 
> A few songs to set the mood:  
> [ Let it Snow, by Pomplamoose ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPdeKySGFjk)  
> [ Winter Song by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UkOKCWDJ4iA)  
> And... my favorite version of [ White Christmas, by Bright Eyes ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qkfRPaGyR8)

John sat still for a moment, sipping at his pleasantly warm mug of coffee. It, like all of the dishes in their cozy little cabin, had been 3D printed using a new technology that utilized plant compost material to make a biodegradable, durable plastic-like substance. It was easily made, efficient and sustainable, all important qualities for their nascent settlement. 

From the kitchen, there was a dull clink as Will dropped a dish. 

“Oh, shit.”

John couldn’t quite keep the grin from his voice as he called out to his husband. 

“All right, love? Didn’t burn yourself again, did you?”

“Yes, fine.” John could hear Will chuckle, even from this distance, and knew that his eyes would be crinkled at the corner in that teasing way John loved as he cleaned up whatever part of his breakfast had met its demise on their kitchen floor. Will continued. “Hadn’t gotten to the coffee yet. It was just the toast.”

“Jam side down?”

“Obviously.”

“I’m going to start the video. Come join me when you can. I’ll take some toast too, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, just this once, John.” 

John set his mug down on his desk, adjusted the tablet in its mount and clicked record, smiling directly into the lens.

_“This is John Watson, sol 403, Mars Colony One, Phase One._

_Phase one will be completed in the next few sols as the generators finish their testing and the final cables are laid. Cable-laying has been an arduous process so far but Tom and Miguel have been working tirelessly to combat the dune shift. The extra power means we will have actual lights in the medical center, so Emilié’s patients won’t have to be treated by the romantic light of a flickering generator-powered bulb. The greenhouse is completed--_

_“Should be completed today,”_ Will interrupted, settling into the seat next to John and sliding a plate of toast and his own mug of coffee onto the desk between them. John smiled his thanks as Will continued: _“The additional power will be heartily welcomed in there as well. Everything is looking right on track for Phase Two and should be ready for harvesting in plenty of time for the new crew’s arrival.”_

John’s attention shifted to the oval window while Will detailed the greenhouse progress and the plans for full food sustainability by mid-2036, just six months away. It was the hope of the IMMC that the settlement would eventually no longer have to rely on food or supplies from Earth, so they could devote all of the payload of future ships to passengers and their related cargo. Will’s invention of a wholly organic, plant-based protein that required fast-growing crops and could be slightly genetically modified to taste like chicken, beef or even seafood, had moved up the goal date by a full eighteen months. John was very proud of him and knew that Will was nervous about the next few weeks. A lot hung in the delicate balance of their first big harvest. If their crop yield didn’t meet the quota, there wouldn’t be enough food for everyone once the new crew arrived.

John pulled his eyes away from the mesmerizing swirl outside the window — the wind had picked up and dust was flying around— and glanced at Will, realizing that he had stopped speaking. His brow was knit as he also watched out the window.

John gave his partner's knee a reassuring pat under the table as he finished up their log.

“ _Fingers crossed that Phase Two gets well underway before the predicted dust storm hits. That’ll certainly make things a bit trickier. Ah, well, c’est la vie, as the French say. This is John Watson and Will Holmes, signing off on sol 403. Good morning and good night.”_

It was the first video log they had done in quite some time, as they’d been busy with work all day and busy with each other the moment they both arrived back home each night, seeking solace in the quiet company of one another and no one else. John knew they should make more of an effort at building rapport and a sense of community with the rest of the crew, but they were still firmly in the newlywed phase of their marriage. The new arrivals were nice enough and the colony worked well enough together professionally, but with each new arrival of crew members (four groups total in the last year, one ship arriving every three months), John found himself feeling more and more protective of the planet and the life they were building together on it. He knew it was ridiculous to feel that way; everyone was working toward a common goal. 

Will’s warm breath on the shell of his ear brought him out of his head. He turned and caught Will’s lips with his own, reaching one hand up to twine in wildly overgrown curls. 

Momentarily breaking their connection, John commented, “The next ship better have a proper barber on it or you’ll be forced to let _me_ hack at it, and we all know how that will turn out."

Will leaned forward to smile against his cheek and, after finding his lips again, deepened the kiss, eliciting a shiver and a small moan of pleasure from John. _Good morning, indeed._

**********

“It looks like snow, all swirling around like that. Nearly puts me in a Christmassy mood. Right time for it, I suppose. Christmas isn’t too far off.”

“I’ve never seen snow.”

“Never?”

“No, John. Never. Shouldn’t be too hard to believe. The Space Coast isn’t exactly known for its blizzards.”

“Well, sure, I know that. But you never ventured north at all? Never had a freak snowfall? Never traveled through the woods to grandmother’s house on a one-horse open sleigh?” 

“No.” 

“Oh, c’mon now, don’t be like that. I was only teasing.”

“We didn’t have any extended family to visit. My only living grandparent was my maternal grandmother, who moved in with us after my mother died. Christmas wasn’t an extravagant holiday. We usually had a tree and I opened a few gifts on Christmas morning, got some candy and an orange in the toe of my stocking. Went about the rest of our day as usual.”

“Oh. Well. That sounds… nice. Nice and quiet.”

“Yes. I suppose it was. Quiet that is. Don’t know about the rest.”

“Was it different…before?”

“Before my mother died?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. That’s what I meant.”

“It’s okay to say it, John. I’m not that fragile. I’ve had twenty years to adjust to the fact that my mother is dead.”

“My father and grandmother did their best. They were busy, and I was… well. Let’s just say I wasn’t the charmer I am now.”

“’Course you weren’t. You had to be tamed first. Lucky for you that you found me just in time.”

“Lucky indeed.”

“Yes, I suppose it was different before my mom died. But that’s what grief does, doesn’t it? Especially when it’s sudden and suffocating and all-encompassing, like it is when you lose a mother and a wife and a daughter at the tragically young age of 34. We carried on and tried to play normal, but it was different. The joy was gone.”

“Oh, Will. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t suffer terribly, John. I had a good life. I’m okay now. Why do you look like that?”

“I just wish I could’ve known you. The other you. The _little_ you. I think I’d have liked him.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. He was a terrible pest.” 

“Well. I like you _now_.”

“As you should, John. I am your husband, after all. Now come to bed and watch the swirling dust with me.”

“Ok, _husband_. As you wish.” 

**********

_“Will Holmes. Sol 412. Mars Colony, Phase… well it should be two by now, but the dust storm has rather messed that up. Phase One. And a half. Barely._

_Day 6 of this dust storm and it appears to be the worst this planet has seen in decades. We knew about the possibility of such a storm as they are a regular occurrence, but there hasn’t been one recorded with this longevity or intensity before. Figures it would happen right now. Irrefutable evidence that it was the atmospheric change that caused the shift in severity. More research needed on that in the future. Right now, all of my research is focused on the next few days. The first ship of settlers will be arriving in just over thirty days. They’ll need to eat. The power grids are covered in dust all the time. The wind has shifted the dunes so much that at least one cable is disconnected, leaving us with approximately five-eighths of the available power. I have directed as much as I am able to into the greenhouse, but the plants are suffering with the difference in temperature and light. No natural light available, as the sun is barely visible even at noon through the thick clouds of dust._

_Everyone is counting on me to come up with a grand solution, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to. This settlement might be over before it has even started._

_Also, it’s our wedding anniversary next week. I’m not sure John has remembered. Should I mention it?_

_Will Holmes, sol 412. Signing off.”_

**********

John slammed the heavy outer door to the airlock, already snapping off the fasteners on his helmet. As he slid the thing off of his head, he could hear Will behind him doing the same. They continued stripping off their suits in near-perfect sync, turning to unzip and unclasp the hard to reach areas on each other without hardly a word. It was a well-rehearsed dance — one that had lately become a daily one. After over a year of living on the red planet, breathing the air and working to make it more hospitable and more like home, it was a drag to have to resort back to wearing their full gear each time they left The Hive, but it was a necessary evil for the time being.

John and Will, like the rest of the crews on Mars and back home on Earth, had originally hoped that this storm would be just a temporary setback — a minor inconvenience that would blow over in a day or two, but each day they woke up to the same wall of grey dusty air, 60mph wind gusts and updrafts, they all grew more discouraged. They were on day fifteen of it and still there was no end in sight 

John shook out and hung up his suit, arranging his boots beneath it before moving to the other side of the tiny room to strip off his spandex undersuit, trying his best not to get any of the dust on his innermost layer. It was a losing battle and he knew it.

Still standing next to the suit hooks, Will shook his hair out like a dog, stripping down to his own underwear and t-shirt and tossing the entire pile into a corner, already moving to the airlock.

“Can you pick those up and put your suit on the hook? And maybe not shake your hair like that? It’s getting everywhere and it would be nice not to have to clean the entire house _every_ day.”

John’s voice was sharp, sharper than maybe he meant it, but he was too annoyed to tone it down. He scowled, stomping off to the inner airlock and stepping through without even waiting to see if Will was listening. Once inside, he headed directly to the shower. He knew it wouldn’t help. Every surface, every item they owned that he passed on his way to the shower, was coated in a fine layer of silty dust. His scowl deepened with each step, his mood darker than the perpetual gloom that he could see through the window.

_Doesn’t look like snow anymore. Looks like failure._

John twisted the knob of the shower hard, feeling suddenly furious. He was sick of dust, sick of helmets and oxygen tank management, sick of uncertainty and stress and the irritation that had arrived with the dust storm, swirling into their home, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife some days. He tipped his head back under the warm stream, exhaling deeply. 

He should apologize. It wasn’t fair of him to snap at Will. But Will hadn’t exactly been helping the situation lately, leaving his dusty clothes in heaps both in the airlock and all over their house despite John’s reminders. Those reminders had, admittedly, often turned into nagging. It was just that Will was always distracted and always busy, always in constant motion. He never seemed to remember to pick up after himself and he never contributed to the general cleanliness of their living quarters. He had been gone from morning til night nearly every day for at least the last week, working in the greenhouse. He was stressed too, John knew. The first group of settlers were arriving in just a few weeks, but the output from the greenhouse had been decreasing rather than increasing to meet future demands, due to the shift of resources to try and combat the effects of the dust storm. John had to admit that they were all stretched nearly to their breaking point, and it would only get worse if they continued to snap and snip at one another.

He scrubbed some soap through his hair, using his fingernails to scrape at the grit permanently embedded into his scalp, and then finished up with a cursory wash and rinse of the rest of him. He could hear Will in the bedroom now and felt a pang of guilt. Normally, he would have invited him to join him and more often than not, the quick hygiene routine would’ve turned into something a little longer, a little slower and a lot sexier. 

Now, John shut the water off because he certainly wasn’t in the mood. He’d apologize, make them some dinner — another task that seemed to have fallen wholly on his shoulders, as Will rarely remembered to feed himself, let alone another human being — and then retreat to bed early. It had been another long and frustrating day and John was more than ready for it to just be over. 

He stuck his hand out of the plastic sheet that served as their shower door and groped around blindly for his towel for a moment before he felt it being pressed into his hand. He gripped it with surprise and stuck his head out to see his husband, mouth downturned and eyebrows raised. Draped across his arm was a matching towel. He was in his underwear and gooseflesh had risen all over his torso and arms.

John rubbed the offered towel over his head briskly, drying his hair and letting it shield his face momentarily. “Thanks.” He muttered from under the microfiber. 

Will nodded and shuffled to the side as John climbed out of the shower and wrapped the small towel around his waist. 

“Should be enough hot water for you. I tried to hurry,” John offered. Will stepped gingerly around him, letting the curtain fall shut.

When he didn’t get a response — or at least not one audible over the shower spray — he left the bathroom, threw on a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and made his way to the kitchen. A quick survey of the contents of their tiny fridge and pantry didn’t turn up many options. Freeze-dried pasta with some nearly-too-soft-tomatoes would have to suffice. He didn’t have the energy for further culinary creativity tonight, and it’s not as though they had food to spare.

As he was chopping the tomatoes and letting the water boil, he heard Will shuffling around in the bedroom. He half-expected his husband to join him in the kitchen – making dinner together used to be one of the activities they loved to do most when they first settled in their tiny Martian house. Little by little, the settlement had expanded as the new groups of crew members arrived from all over the world, setting up their own cabins, sometimes in temporary pairs for convenience's sake. The homes were connected by inflatable tunnels, like the spokes of a wheel with the laboratory in the center. John spent much of his days in the lab — _had_ spent before the storm had started. Now, all of the resources were being used to maintain a comfortable baseline to survive the storm. Power was being rationed, and John knew that the engineers had dismantled several of the lab’s machines to try and rig up other means of keeping especially the rovers clean and dust-free.

John slid the tomatoes into a pan with a splash of oil and a sprinkle of salt and poured himself a glass of water. From the bedroom, he could hear Will coughing and reached to get down a second glass. Will’s cough sounded even worse now than it had even this morning, but John knew Will didn’t want to be fussed over. His fuse had been even shorter lately than John’s, but if the symptoms persisted John would insist on him getting assessed by the base doctor. _Wouldn’t do to develop pneumoconiosis,_ John thought. The danger of such a thing developing had been discussed at the last base check-in meeting.

While the pasta cooked, John took a damp towel to the worst of the dust in their small kitchen in an attempt to make the space safe for eating. John cleared the detritus off of the table, carrying it into the leisure room and dumping it onto the floor. Despite his cleaning attempts, this made a fine cloud of red dust fly up. The table folded up into the wall when it wasn’t in use, which would help with containing the mess, except that Will had covered every available surface with notes and tiny cups of dirt as he grew more frantic, testing different growing conditions in an effort to speed up the crops’ growth before the necessary harvesting. 

The kitchen had been a late addition to their two-person cabin; as more people arrived and settled in The Hive, the need for additional spaces — and privacy! – increased. They occasionally joined the others in the community kitchen for a meal or a game night, but most of the time kept to themselves and John preferred it that way. He knew Will especially did too. He suffered through those occasions with a tight jaw and minimal interaction, relying on John to navigate the social niceties that he often struggled with, especially when he was stressed or otherwise cognitively occupied.

Will emerged from the bedroom, his hair damp and his t-shirt clinging to his chest and stomach. John handed him the second glass of water and drained the pasta, adding the tomatoes and a scant handful of dried basil. He set a bowl in front of each of them and settled into his chair across from Will, accidentally bumping his knees under the table. 

“Sorry. You’ll have to forgive my long legs.” It was a running joke of theirs, but Will hardly glanced up from his bowl. 

“S’ok.” He said in a voice that sounded light years away. John nudged his knee again, purposely this time. 

“Hey. Sorry about earlier too. Shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” 

Will’s only response was to get up from the table with his still mostly-full bowl, his eyes unfocused and his lips moving to form thoughts that only made sense to him. John thought he heard the words purple, Boston and Wenceslas before Will disappeared once more into the bedroom. A few minutes later, the sound of his violin tuning could be heard coming from upstairs.

John stood up from the table, grumbling under his breath as he cleared the remaining dishes. “ _You’re forgiven, John. I’m sorry I’m such an inconsiderate jerk sometimes. Maybe it’s because my head is always somewhere else, like shoved up my own—”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool Research Things: 
> 
> Dust storms on Mars are a regularly occurring phenomenon, but not often to the same global effect as the one [ experienced last summer, when Earth lost connection with the rover Opportunity. ](https://www.space.com/40952-mars-dust-storm-2018-covers-entire-planet.html) RIP, Oppy. :(
> 
> Some interesting articles on bioplastics, like they use for their dishes:  
> [ What are bioplastics? ](https://bioplasticsnews.com/bioplastics/)  
> [ Possible plan for Mars homes to be made of bioplastic ](https://bioplasticsnews.com/2018/08/06/bioplastics-house-on-mars/)
> 
> Our spacenerds' kitchen dishes would be 3D printed as necessary with a similar bioplastic as these, thus reducing waste and starting their brand new planet as sustainably as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

John woke up the next morning to a racket. He pulled track pants on and blearily made his way to the kitchen to find Will pacing frantically, rifling through stacks of scattered books and papers, only pausing to scrub his hands through his hair. He was muttering again, and looked like he hadn’t slept in days. John had heard him coughing last night and wasn’t sure he had even come to bed at all. The circles under his eyes had deepened to a dark purple and John could see his ribs through the thin material of his shirt. He needed a break and John was worried that if he didn’t voluntarily take one, his body would decide to do it for him. John cleared his throat but Will whirled around, holding up a hand. 

“Can’t talk right now. Busy. Late. Should’ve been at the greenhouse hours ago, but I can’t find…” He trailed off, scowling at the sock and pen in his hand, before unceremoniously dropping them on the floor. 

“Will, I don’t think...”

“No, not often.” Will turned his back and flopped onto the floor to rifle under a chair. Puffs of dust flew up around him and he grunted, attempting to stifle another cough.

John frowned.

“Ha. Very funny. But, no. I don’t think you should go out in this today. The wind has picked up, visibility is nil, and the imaging that has been sent back to the base shows that it’s covered half the planet and counting. Plus…” John paused as Will stood up, succumbing to a deep hack that left him wheezing. “Plus, you sound terrible. And you haven’t slept in days. As your doctor, I strongly recommend you take a day off. And as your _husband…_ ” He shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. “As your husband, I’m even more concerned. You’re exhausted. Take a day or two to recover. Please.” 

Will waved him off with a flap of his hand, continuing his search. “I’m fine. Totally fine. It’s just a little cough, it’ll be gone as soon as the — _A-ha!_ ” From underneath an empty coffee mug, Will pulled out a folded piece of paper, waving it excitedly in the air before tucking it into his pocket without so much as a glance at its contents. He spun on his heel and marched off.

John watched him go with knitted eyebrows. “Will!”

But his weak protest was lost in the slam of the inner airlock door. 

**********

John stretched but his movement was impeded by something very warm and very heavy. He grunted and made to shove it off, but even in his half-conscious state, he recognized the sleepy smell of his husband, curled around and on top of him. He figured Will must’ve returned late the previous night, long after John had already gone to bed, annoyed and worried for his husband in equal parts. 

Enjoying the momentary warmth and closeness — something of which there had been a serious dearth of lately — John rearranged his husband’s sprawling limbs into something a bit more comfortable for the both of them and kissed the top of Will’s curly head, settling back against the pillow. He was thrilled that Will had finally given in and decided to get some rest. 

When he awoke again some time later, he was surprised to find that he had even fallen back asleep. He was not surprised to find himself alone in bed. A quick glance outside showed the same unrelenting and bleak weather, the dust so thick in the air that it could’ve been midnight or noon, for all the light that was shining through. He rolled over and squinted at the clock, but was interrupted by the arrival of Will, precariously balancing two coffee cups and his tablet in his arms. He gave Will a once-over and decided that he looked well-rested enough to let yesterday’s manic exhaustion and stubborn lack of self-care remained unmentioned.

“Oh! Didn’t expect to see you this morning. What time is it?”

“Just after eight, I think. I slept in. We did. Both of us. Unimportant.” John leaned forward to take one of the steaming mugs from him before he could wave an imperious hand _._ “I think I’ve nearly solved the light issue.”

Will settled in next to him on the bed, tapping his finger on a complicated diagram on his tablet, and took a large gulp of his coffee, wincing as the hot liquid scalded his mouth.

John took it from him and set it on the floor next to the bed, making a mental note to retrieve it again in a few minutes once his own mug cooled enough to be drinkable. He knew his husband would forget it otherwise and would wind up with a headache in an hour or so. He’d be confused about that too, because he would remember _making_ the coffee, but probably not anything after that since his thoughts would have already shifted to something more engaging, and would assume that he had drank at least one cup before stumbling upon the still-full and hours-cold mug on the floor.

John smiled fondly and planted a kiss on Will’s shoulder.

“What was that for?”

“Just thinking.”

“About me?”

“Of course.”

“And that made you want to kiss my shoulder?” 

“Yes.”

Will’s eyes slid momentarily off of the tablet and his mouth crooked up in that secret half-smile that John loved. 

“Sentiment," Will summarized. "Do you want to stop by the greenhouse with me today? I don’t have to go until later; I’m able to do a lot of the set up remotely and need to give it time to see if it worked. If you’re not busy, that is.”

John scoffed. “No, I haven't got anything planned. Can’t really, can I, with half my lab equipment being used elsewhere. I did promise to check in with Emelié today, but I could come later.”

Emelié, a French doctor that had arrived on the first ship after their own, was the leading medical professional in their small community, but she often asked for John’s opinion on matters. Right now, in their still-makeshift and poorly lit medical center, they were monitoring several of the crew’s respiratory symptoms, Will’s included. John wondered if Will would agree to an examination today but decided it could probably wait until tomorrow. The greenhouse came first. Their lives depended on it.

John took a sip of his coffee and watched as Will licked his lips and then glanced around the room, his eyebrows pulled together. John chuckled and reached down to retrieve Will’s mug from the floor, perfectly cooled now. He pressed it into Will’s hand, curling his fingers and giving Will’s a little squeeze. 

“Here. Caffeinate. I’ll go find us some breakfast.”

Will nodded, but his eyes were already back on the tablet.

**********

John pushed through the heavy plastic sheeting of the greenhouse, stopping once he was just inside to strip off one more layer, being careful not to get any dust on any of the plants. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but the wind had seemed much less brutal as he’d left the medical building, where he’d spent the morning working on a new vitals tracking system with Emilié and Franck, the head biomed engineer.

John crossed his fingers and whispered a short request to the universe to let the end of the dust storm _please_ be in sight _soon_ . He slipped off his boots and sighed when he saw the heap of fabric that had been unceremoniously dumped on top of Will’s footwear. He untangled the garments, draping them over some nearby piping. _Not your damn housekeeper, Will Watson-Holmes,_ he muttered _._

In just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he stepped carefully into the greenhouse, squinting. It was dim, much dimmer than the last time John had been in here and he frowned. How were the plants supposed to grow at all if these were the conditions they were being subjected to? He marveled at his husband’s tenacity as he walked around and wondered if he would have had the patience to keep trying new things when met with so many frustrating dead ends.

Soon he realized that he was nearly halfway through the greenhouse and had yet to spot Will. He knew Will often wore his headphones while he worked, so he debated calling out for him, but also didn’t want to sneak up behind him and risk scaring him. John paused at a particularly lush area, touching the tip of a silky green leaf with one finger and smiling at the memory of another greenhouse, much smaller, but no less lush. All that was missing was the — 

_Music._ From somewhere to his right, the unmistakable sound of Will’s violin filled the air and John couldn’t help the grin that split his face as he listened, trying to place the familiar tune.

“White Christmas!” He chuckled, adjusting his steps to head in the direction of the music. 

“ _…just like the ones I used to know.”_ John sang the phrase, his head swiveling as he tried to spot his husband’s dark mop among the shadowy foliage. _“_ Will?” 

“Follow the lights, John.” 

“The… aha! Cool!” To John’s right, there was a burst of color as red and green and yellow and blue lights zigzagged around a support structure, lighting up Will’s face with its rainbow. His head was ducked in concentration, but John could see his radiant smile. John crossed to him and stopped, watching as he finished the song with a flourish. Will set the instrument down hastily on a nearby ledge and bounded to John, positively thrumming with excitement.

“It worked, John! I did it!” Will wrapped his arms around John's middle and squeezed, nearly lifting his husband's feet from the ground in his exuberance. John laughed and wrapped his arms around his bony shoulders, sneaking in a quick kiss between the words tumbling from Will’s lush mouth. _God, that mouth. God, this_ man _!_ He found himself overcome with pride and love that this gorgeous, brilliant being was his, as he listened to Will describe his breakthrough.

“ _Christmas_ , John! You said that it was nearly Christmas! The _lights_ , John!”

Using light in different wavelengths — as inspired by remembering multicoloured strings of Christmas lights, Will had been able to compensate for the lack of ambient light. It had taken no more than a few days for his data to start showing an increase in growth already. That, combined with regular music played in the greenhouse — “ _They enjoy a mix of the classics, but haven’t minded when I’ve indulged my more whimsical side with a few carols. ‘Tis the season, John!_ ” — might just give the plants the push they needed to make it 'til harvest. 

John turned in a circle, smiling at the rows upon rows of plump, red tomatoes, lush greens, stalks of beans and trenches of potatoes. “You did it, love.” He wound his arm around Will’s waist and gave him a squeeze. “I knew you could.”

Will tipped his chin down, flushing to the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat. “Well, I wasn’t so sure that I could, but I appreciate your confidence in my abilities. It’s rather… nice.”

John rose up on his toes to kiss him. _My lovely, lanky git_.

“We missed Christmas by a few days, and our anniversary as well. I’m sorry we didn’t celebrate properly.” 

John looked up at him in surprise. “Oh my god, you’re right. We did miss those. But it’s just one day out of the rest of our lives. We’ve had one wonderful year together — one very _busy_ year — and I wouldn’t trade a single second of it.” John kissed him again, and if his eyes felt a little wet as he did so, he knew Will wouldn’t mind. “Here’s to a happy new year together. And the rest of our lives, my love.”

“To infinity, John. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

THE END

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy sigh. <3 <3
> 
> I sure did miss these two. :) 
> 
> Here's some [ fun reading ](https://www.greenhousetoday.com/does-the-color-of-light-affect-plant-growth/) on the effect of colored lights on plant growth.


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